


Do You Think We Could Ever Be Lovers?

by greatbriton



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4440971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatbriton/pseuds/greatbriton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and Blackwall take a tumble… down a hill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Think We Could Ever Be Lovers?

**Author's Note:**

> Rating is currently G but will be Mature later

Dorian crosses one leg over the other and swipes dirt from his boot irritably. He catches Blackwall looking his way and smiles for the show of it. What does the Warden want now, Dorian wonders. The man quickly looks away, fussing with his shield. He’s been like that, evasive, ever since he and Dorian had one too many chats that didn’t end in them squabbling. Not that they didn’t still find themselves at odds with each other on occasion, only that it was less of an issue as of late. One could grow use to most anything, Dorian supposes.

As with Blackwall’s gaze, Dorian lets his own mind turn from the warrior. He takes his boot off to knock the small pebbles out then places it back onto his foot. Heavenly. 

“Time to get moving,” the Inquisitor calls. She’s on her feet, short legs carrying her quickly across the camp. “I want to make it back by sundown.”

Both Dorian and Sera groan then stop to look at each other. Sera sticks her tongue out at him as if it were his fault they were of the same mind.

“Charming,” he mumbles good-naturedly, tightening his boot straps and buckles. He stands, picking up his staff and catches Blackwall watching him again out of the corner of his eye. Dorian can’t remember anything he may have done to offend the man and yet it seems he must have with the silent stares that bore at him. He doesn’t confront Blackwall’s gaze before it’s broken by Sera bounding past Blackwall, slapping the man teasingly on the back of the head.

“Broody beard at it again,” she laughs.

“I’m not at anything,” he responds, hefting his shield onto his back. Blackwall always fails at hiding his affection for Sera under his gruff tones.

“My point, yeah,” she continues. “Always staring. Frowning with your face. Where’s the fun in that?”

“I suppose there is none.”

“Exactly. Broody beard.”

Blackwall laughs in that low register of his and Dorian sets off after the Inquisitor in case they decide to stop being distracted with each other. Blackwall and Sera begin moving as well but continue their chatter in the back of the party to which Dorian has no interest. He instead lets his attention wander to the hilly landscape. Wild rams bleat from a cautious distance and sometimes a fennec travels within eyeshot then darts away into the trees. He frowns at the sunlight’s blinding rays through the tree branches. Sometimes Dorian wonders why the Inquisitor feels it necessary to bring him along on these excursions. He was more than willing, wanting to help the Inquisitor and her battle against Corypheus in any means he’s capable of, although given the climates of these southern territories he often preferred helping in a more academic capacity.

He’s too busy looking at his footing and mentally grumbling at the outdoors that he misses the small branch reaching into his path until its too late. The leaves swat him in the face and brush across his hair. Dorian sputters and picks what feels like spider webs from his forehead. He curses in Tevene, pulling fingers through his hair to pick the rest of the pieces out. 

His missteps in the outdoors were hardly noteworthy so nobody around gives him much more than a glance and a snicker from Sera. Besides Blackwall.

“How do you get your hair to do that, Dorian? With magic?” Blackwall asks, watching Dorian pick at his styled hair, still sitting fairly well in place. 

“With proper hygiene and grooming. Maybe all three of you should get acquainted.” His tone is unintentionally tight with his annoyance. Spiders. A shiver runs across his shoulders.

Blackwall makes this rough huff of a breath that could mean any number of things then says, “Some of us have better things to do with our time than lounge in the comforts of baths and stare at mirrors.”

“Oh?” Dorian piques his brow at Blackwall. “Judging from the smell of you it’s something you cannot find time for during the span of a month’s time.” Dorian sniffs and turns his face away. “Perhaps longer.”

Blackwall gives Dorian a hard glance. He’s picked up his pace to walk alongside Dorian. “I’m clean enough for my purposes, mage.”

Dorian frowns. “What purposes are those? Alerting all the wildlife to our presence with your odor?”

“Ha. You’ll warn them off with your complaining long before that.”

“I don’t complain.”

“Are you being funny?”

“I’m being perfectly seriou–!!” Dorian cuts off as the ground underneath him gives way. The hill edge looser than appearances would argue.

“Dorian!” Blackwall shouts, reaching for him and grabbing hold of Dorian’s arm. But it’s too late. Dorian’s balance is already lost and he’s falling. The sudden weight is too much for Blackwall to recover from and he gets pulled along, sending both men tumbling down the hillside.

Blackwall grunts with each hard bump on the way down, a slower descent than Dorian’s as he yells incoherently until he comes barreling onto his back at the bottom of the hill, thankfully having missed most large trees in his journey. Dorian has just enough time to lean up on his arms before he catches sight of Blackwall falling down after him.

“No!!!”

“Watch out!-”

Blackwall lands on top of Dorian, knocking the wind out of the mage and crushing him into the dirt. His groans of pain mingle with Blackwall’s as they both try to get their bearings. Chest to chest, Blackwall finally puts weight on his arms at either side of Dorian’s head. Their noses touch and both men pause, breathing heavy breaths against each other. Dorian swears Blackwall’s eyes dart to his lips before crawling back up to meet Dorian’s own eyes. Blackwall’s cheeks flush, a red almost hidden by his beard and he clears his throat. Dorian stares a little bewildered as Blackwall frantically crawls off of him.

“Quite a tumble,” Blackwall says as he gets to his knees, in between Dorian’s thighs. “Are you alright?”

Above them, Dorian can hear Sera laughing from the top of the hill they had just clumsily fallen down. He cringes. It would have been best if she hadn’t seen his graceless fall. Now most of Skyhold will know minutes after they return.

Blackwall holds out a hand to Dorian which takes all of Dorian’s strength to take. “Are you inquiring about my physical state or my pride?”

Blackwall laughs and as he gets to his feet pulls Dorian to his. Dorian groans in discomfort as already bruising areas of his body throb at the jostling. 

“Your pride will recover, I think, but will broken bones?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of either outcome,” Dorian wipes dirt from his front, coughing and frowning as he looks over the damage. Tears in his robe with grass and dirt stains all along. Other than a few tiny slashes from foliage and sore spots he seems in good condition. He’ll have a healer look at him to make sure. “Although I believe nothing more than cuts and bruises. Amazing, considering I cushioned most of your fall.”

Blackwall blanches and rubs at the back of his neck. “A-Apologies for that.” 

Dorian grins despite himself. “Not that I don’t appreciate the attempt to rescue me. I could have done without the eventual outcome.”

Blackwall almost reddens again and he wrings his hands, leather creaking at the motion. “I would have done the same for anyone.”

“Ah,” Dorian stops wiping at loose leaves caught on his buckles to pout. “You mean you didn’t chase me down the hill out of a special concern?”

Blackwall avoids looking at Dorian for a moment. Interesting reaction, Dorian thinks. “Ha, I’m sure you would wish to think I’d risk bodily harm just for you.”

“True. Quite upsetting that you and so many others simply refuse.” He frowns deeply to play up the act. Blackwall chuckles.

“Prince Pavus must feel so put out.”

“There’s nothing for it but for you to carry me back to the group. Prince Pavus insists.”

“In your dreams, mage,” Blackwall turns and starts to head in the direction they had been heading before the fall. In the hopes of finding the way back up.

Dorian gasps in mock offense. “But I can’t be expected to travel the distance on my own two feet. Remember how you fell on me?”

Blackwall waves his words away. “After you were too blind to see where you were going.”

“Your fault as well.”

“How so?”

“If you hadn’t been so intent on arguing with me–”

“Arguing?”

“Yes, arguing,” Dorian sniffs. “About your lack of hygiene.”

“Oh, so we’re back on that now?”

“Did we ever leave?” Dorian cringes as he steps over some rocks. Yes, he would have to see the healers about that. “Now, I will have your stink about me all day.”

Blackwall gives Dorian a sideways glance. “I think you’re changing the subject.”

“Of course, I am,” Dorian snaps easily. “Much better to talk about your short comings than my own.”

“And here I thought you only wanted to talk about yourself.” Blackwall grabs a branch and holds it out of the way as he and Dorian pass. “Maybe we should concern ourselves with finding a path back instead.”

As he speaks there come low growls from ahead and to the left. Wolves, three of them, emerge from around a small brush of bushes. They begin circling with a focus that seems wholly unnatural.

“Yes, that might be for the best,” Dorian whispers, reaching for his staff.

Blackwall puts his back to Dorian’s, his sword already out and shield in hand. “Steady.”

Teeth bared and drool dripping from their jowls, the wolves search for the right moment to strike. Dorian is focusing on a spell, cursing himself for not having it already at the tip of his fingers. Blackwall is sturdy and steady behind him. Seeming not wanting to move from Dorian’s side, maybe understanding that Dorian would need a little time. One of the wolves lurches forward to attack and is struck in the haunch by an arrow. It cries out and backs off momentarily.

“Sera,” Dorian can hear the smile in Blackwall’s voice. 

With the quick distraction Dorian is able to conjure his spell. He takes one step away from Blackwall to have the space to slam his staff onto the ground with a great thundering crack. Bolts of thin lightning erupt from the tip of his staff and strike each wolf simultaneously. They stumble and cry out, each stunned by the attack. Blackwall wastes nothing. He roars with a fury and charges forward, strong legs taking him to a wolf quicker than Blackwall’s bulk would have you think possible. He slams the beast with his shield and then as quickly as that is done he sticks his sword point down into the dirt then grabs a chain at his belt. He swings it in a large rotation once – twice – then lets it fly. The sharp hook at the end catches into the third wolf’s shoulder. Blackwall pulls hard on the chain, dragging the wolf nearer and catching its attention beyond a doubt. He drops the chain and grabs his sword again just in time for the first wolf to come crashing down onto his shield. 

Dorian pivots back and begins conjuring a ball of fire. His hands rotate around each other, each second the fire growing hotter against his skin. Then he throws his arms outward, the fire erupting from its prison and hurtling toward the wolf just now recovering from the arrow and lightning. The fur ignites into flame and the wolf yelps and growls, its jaw snapping loudly over the crackling flames. It stumbles forward toward Dorian until Dorian gathers his remaining concentration on a final spell and twirls his staff in his hands, an intricate pattern that sends an eery blue magic circle around the creature. It convulses and finally collapses. Almost before it hits the ground another wolf, the same blue shade of Dorian’s magic begins to rise. The spirit growls and stretches then follows the direction of Dorian’s pointing finger.

“Attack!” he shouts. 

Blackwall fends off the two rabid wolves as best he can but one has its fangs around the top of his shield, threatening to rip it from Blackwall’s hand, throwing its head back and forth with a staggering force. The other keeping just out of reach of Blackwall’s sword point. If Blackwall spares one more attention than the other then he will lose any advantage for his defense. 

Dorian feels his jaw clench tightly, choking down his urgent call to Blackwall. He tries instead to focus any remaining energy on calling down a shield for the warrior. As flimsy at it would be. If he can only buy a couple seconds. Then he blinks and the wolf spirit barrels into the wolf facing Blackwall off as if it were spurred on by Dorian’s desperation. The unsuspecting wolf is taken down quickly with sharp magical teeth digging into its throat and ripping. 

Blackwall growls almost as animalistically as the wolves and then brings is sword arm up and over his shield, stabbing the wolf at the top of its neck. The surprising attack allows Blackwall to throw the wolf from his shield then sheath his sword in its chest before it can recover. It takes a moment of thrashing before it finally gives in to death, leaving Blackwall panting for breath above it as he pulls his sword free. 

There’s a quiet that falls that’s only disrupted by the fading licks of flames still consuming the fur of a dead wolf and the smell of burnt flesh. Blackwall wipes his blade on the wolf in front of him, getting most of the blood and then turns to Dorian.

“Are you alright?”

Dorian nods as he leans heavily on his staff in order to stay upright. The fatigue hits him hard and he feels drained of energy and of something deeper that makes him feel like a hollow shell. He couldn’t cast another spell if his life depended on it. Not without a lyrium source.

Seeming to notice Dorian’s slumped stance, Blackwall takes a step toward him and sheathes his sword.

“Are you two okay?!” comes the Inquisitor’s worried shout. She’s mounted, bouncing along on the animal’s back as it maneuvers around sharp rocks. “Sera said she saw – Wolves.” She notices the corpses and covers her nose with the back of her hand as the smell hits her. 

“We survive to fight another day, Inquisitor,” Dorian says as cheerily as he can manage. Blackwall hasn’t come any closer but he still spares Dorian a concerned glance. Dorian pushes himself to stand taller, the last thing he needs is Blackwall fretting over him.

“Dorian may need aid,” Blackwall says, still catching his breath. The bastard.

“Are you injured?”

“No, no, I am fine. I assure you,” Dorian begins walking, setting his jaw tight through his stiff muscles and vague dizziness.

The Inquisitor eyes him up and down then slowly nods. “Fine. Maybe we should stay on the low ground to save any more accidents.”

She doesn’t smile or spare Dorian another glance but Dorian feels his cheeks burn all the same. Blackwall huffs but quickly hides it behind his hand at Dorian’s glare. They follow after the Herald back toward the rest of the company. It’s surprising to Dorian when Blackwall steps in close next to him.

“Here, let me help,” Blackwall says softly, maybe for Dorian’s benefit so the Inquisitor won’t hear, and he takes Dorian’s forearm in his hand. Dorian snatches his arm away.

“If you please, I am capable of taking care of myself.”

“You can barely walk.” Blackwall doesn’t raise his voice and doesn’t move away. 

Dorian feels the slight wobble in his knees even as he looks away. “I will be fine in a few moments.”

“Until then,” Blackwall offers his hand this time. Dorian looks from the Inquisitor’s back to Blackwall’s offered support. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anybody here, y'know. Not anymore, at least.”

Dorian frowns deeply but he wants to laugh. “Tell that to the plethora of men and women back in Skyhold who would rather I had broken my neck falling down that mountain.”

“Hill,” Blackwall corrects and Dorian smirks. 

“Of course,” Dorian says with a nod in Blackwall’s direction. 

Blackwall takes Dorian’s arm and settles his hand on Blackwall’s shoulder where Dorian can lean. He then wraps a thick arm around Dorian’s midsection which pulls them close. Close where Dorian can distinctly smell the leathers of Blackwall’s armor and the sweat clinging to his skin. 

“See, not so bad, eh?” Blackwall chuckles at Dorian’s stubbornness. 

“Well, I am sure if I didn’t need a bath already I shall need one now,” Dorian’s jab doesn’t have any heart. He tightens his fingers on Blackwall’s shoulder and tries to focus on not tripping them both over again. His legs are still tired but his mind is clear. “You’re assistance is…” he grunts in an attempt to delay. “Appreciated.”

Blackwall doesn’t say anything. But when Dorian glances his way he notices the turn of his warm smile. 

It’s not long before Dorian feels his strength begin to return, even if the bruising throbs continue. He could have dropped off of Blackwall’s side yards and yards back but he finds he doesn’t much mind being held tight by the Warden’s arms. So they walk on quietly and perfectly content to keep the peace. Until they hear the footfalls and rustling of the rest of the Inquisition party. Dorian quickly dislodges himself from Blackwall with another word of thanks but the last thing he needs is Sera poking at him more than she already will be. 

Blackwall watches Dorian with an unreadable expression as they join with the others. Dorian can feel his eyes and its all he can do not to look up and meet them. He can smell the other man on him. An almost rank stench but one his nose had quickly grown accustomed to, if he were honest. He wonders absently if anything of his own lingers around Blackwall, making it impossible not to think of the feel of him against his side and against his hands. Dorian looks down at his hand, remembering the strong shoulder he had been holding and how it had flexed and shifted under him. 

He hears Sera’s voice calling to him over the Inquisitor’s orders for a short rest and Dorian snaps out of his thoughts. She’s approaching him, already laughing and he groans, knowing that he isn’t going to hear the end of this for a long time. 

He does catch Blackwall’s eyes then and gives him a distressed look. Blackwall laughs under his breath and shrugs his shoulders as if there was nothing to be done about it. Dorian narrows his eyes at the betrayal and then Sera is in his face recapping to Dorian his entire fall down the hillside and how he looked when he landed on his ass. She laughs and slaps her leg, leaning on him for support as she’s overwhelmed by the memory. Dorian sighs and knows there’s nothing for it as Inquisition soldiers chuckle and pretend they’re not listening as Sera continues.

“You should have seen your face!” Sera snorts, slapping him hard in the shoulder. “Never seen your eyes pop out so large,” she widens her eyes in recreation. Dorian sighs again.


End file.
